The Code

by Doug Dandridge

  She didn't think this would lead to any kind of result that she might like. The Gorgansha had come out where they had for a reason, and the dictator was probably that reason. She was almost sure what the Gorgansha ruler was up to.

  If they survived, the enemy would not, and her own force would probably have sustained very heavy losses, while the Gorgansha would still have an intact force. If she didn’t defeat the Machines, she would most probably still have hurt them badly, and the Gorgansha could most likely take them out. If she did defeat the Machines, the Gorgansha would still be there, probably with much more firepower than she had. But for what purpose? That was what was bothering her. Of course, there was always the possibility that the Machines would beat her handily, and then destroy the Gorgansha fleet that could have tipped the balance if they had actually cooperated with the humans.

  “First volley away,” called out Quan as the mass of the ship shuddered slightly with the release of almost forty missiles through its magnetic accelerator tubes. The ship spun in place, orienting all of its tubes toward the target in turn so they could spit them out with considerable starting velocity.

  “Response coming from the Gorgansha through grav pulse,” called out the com officer. “Replying that they made a navigational error, and will be here as soon as possible.”

  “Send a pulse asking why they are so low on the acceleration?”

  The com officer nodded and went to work. Grav pulse was almost instantaneous, but not quite. It would take several seconds for the pulse to reach the other force through hyper VIII, and several seconds for the response, as well as the time it took for the other com officer to input the message.

  I still wish the Gorgansha had faster than light com¸ thought the admiral, again staring at the icons that indicated the almost a thousand allied ships. They hadn’t given the aliens any wormholes of their own. She hadn't trusted them, and frankly thought they would be of better use in her own hands. Now, with her suspicions, she was glad they hadn’t given them wormholes attached to accelerator tubes. The Gorgansha could possibly get a launch at their human allies before their wormholes were shut down. If given enough time the humans could order the missiles to self-destruct. But the admiral could think of some situations where the Gorgansha might be able to kill Imperial ships.

  “The same reply, ma’am,” said the com officer. “They made a navigational error, and will be here as soon as possible. Another string coming through.”

  The officer looked at the screen that was showing the text from the message. “Commander Gorgansha force is reporting that their grav pulse com is acting up. On all of their ships.”

  Now she really wished that they had a Klassekian aboard the enemy flagship that connected directly to her. She wanted to actually talk to the enemy commander, look at their face as transmitted through the brain to brain connection. She wasn’t an expert on Gorgansha facial expressions. In fact, they weren’t the most expressive species she had ever seen. Still, she was sure from the ridiculous messages coming over the grav pulse com that the commander was lying. She couldn’t think of anything that could shut down the grav pulse coms on almost a thousand ships. As it was, there was nothing she could do about it, real or not. Except stare at the plot and wonder what the hell the aliens were thinking.

  “Khrushchev is on the com, ma'am,” called out one of the com officers.

  “Natasha,” said Beata as the woman appeared on the side holo. “Have you gotten in touch with the dictator?”

  “He's busy,” said the other officer, spitting out the words in anger. “I'm not sure what's more important than talking about stopping the invaders of his Consolidation.”

  “I'm sure he just doesn't want to tell us what he's up to,” growled Beata, shaking her head. She thought for a moment, then gave an order that she wasn't sure would do any good. Still, she needed to do something. “Keep trying to get through to that bastard. I want an answer as to why his fleets aren't acting like I need them to.”

  And if she didn't get an answer, what was she going to do? Get out of the system and allow all the people living here to be destroyed by the killer Machines that humans were responsible for? Could she do that? Could she sacrifice her ships and people for no return?

  I'll fight this battle and play it by ear, she thought. There was always the option of destroying her wormholes and retreating through the wormhole gates. That would emasculate her fleet, reducing her firepower by more than half, and forcing her to wait for months to get replacement wormholes for her launchers. Let's see what happens, she thought again, looking expectantly at her com people, hoping that some kind of answer would come through from her erstwhile allies.

  * * *

  I don’t like this one bit, thought Fleet Commander Soranka Goran, looking at the plot. The human fleet was strong in numbers, probably more powerful than his own in firepower still. The Machines force was enormous, and once again he wondered how they built up their forces so quickly. He had followed his orders to come in on a vector that placed him as far away from the human fleet as he could be and still be seen entering the system. He was still following orders by keeping his acceleration down, just as his leader had specified. And he felt like a traitorous shit for doing so and betraying the allies who had come in and saved his people from extinction.

  The dictator had always commanded absolute obedience, and not just because he had the power of life or death over every living being in the consolidation. Gorgansha were raised to respect authority, to follow the orders of those placed above them. They could kill without regret, murder those they were told to put down. Steal, lie, anything that furthered the cause, whether that of the Consolidation or their own. The only honor they held was in risking all for their leader. That had been drummed into their heads from childhood, and most of the race were too stupid to ever consider any alternatives.

  Goran was not stupid. One didn’t rise to command the entire fleet, or even walk the flag deck of one of its most powerful elements, without having the intelligence to defeat peers in maneuvers, or enemies in battle, though there hadn’t been much of that in the last couple of generations before the Artificial Lifeforms had come. But even the smarter of the officers didn’t allow themselves to think much about politics. Goran hadn’t, until the humans and their alien allies had come along and shown them that a species could rise to power with a different sense of honor.

  The humans believed in helping others. Maybe not everyone in their species did, but the majority. Their Emperor had authorized giving their military tech to a species they had had little intercourse with, and owed nothing to. Their officers and spacers carried a sense of honor that had more to do with doing what they thought was right, and not always what was expedient. They had put their lives on the line to save the admiral’s people, and for their trouble the dictator had set them up to take the largest share of the casualties in this fight. And he had set up four of their remaining living systems to take the fall along with the humans if they didn’t hold.

  “How fast can we get to our friends if we go to full acceleration now?” he asked his chief of staff, a Gorgansha male whose talents lay more in organization than in tactical or strategic thought.

  “The dictator has forbidden such,” said the older male.

  And you will be happy to report to him that I disobeyed his directive, thought Goran, the image of him pushing the other Gorgansha out an airlock flitting through his mind. Not that I expect that you won’t tell him that I even suggested such an act.

  Another problem with their culture. All loyalty was to the leader, with none to the people you fought alongside. That could hurt the morale of the ships of the fleet, as well as that of the larger unit itself.

  “I want all ships to fire a volley of missiles at the enemy,” he finally ordered, his trio of eyes glaring into those of the Chief of Staff, his tail curling up in a challenge, showing his anger.

  The missiles, almost as good as the human version they were based on, would get
to the enemy much faster than his ships could get to the humans. And fired at range they would be coming in at the enemy fleet at a very significant fraction of light speed, up to point nine five. The most effective attack profile.

  “But the dictator…”

  “Said absolutely nothing about firing at the enemy at what I have determined is the most effective range,” growled Goran, baring his teeth in a display of rage. “So, you will stand aside and let my crew follow my order. If the dictator has anything to say about it, he can say it to my face when I return to the home system.”

  He had no doubt that the dictator would have much to say, punctuating it with his execution in the end. That was just too damned bad. He wasn’t about to betray these people he had grown to like and respect. And he wasn’t about to betray all of the people, the slaves as well as his own species, who lived here. That would be a betrayal of what honor he had left.

  The flagship shuddered slightly, its mass reacting to the forty missiles it released in its first volley, spinning in space to bring all the tubes to bear so they could accelerate the weapons on their way. Every other ship in his force followed suit, obeying his orders to the letters. Thousands of icons appeared on the plot. Tens of thousands of them. More.

  “Another volley,” ordered the admiral. “We’ll wait on the next after we see what the damned robots do.”

  * * *

  “We have missiles in space, ma’am. Count of about seventy-five thousand, accelerating at nine thousand gravities. On a vector toward the enemy.”

  Damn, thought Beata, a smile creeping onto her face. Someone over there is thinking for themselves and doing what they can despite the wishes of their despot.

  It still would have been better to have them closed up with her ships, adding their defensive fire to her own. However, she would take would she could get. Her own volleys were heading toward the enemy, ten of them spaced thirty seconds apart, while the timer counted down to the first of the wormhole volleys. Those would be launched to reach the enemy at near the same time as the ship launched weapons. Her fleet was between the Machines and the inhabited planet, and the fighters were already in the process of rearming at her carriers. She had everything she could possibly do in motion.

  “We have another missile launch, ma’am,” shouted out Quan, wide eyes looking back. She turned to look at her station, then looked back at her admiral. “Two launches, ma’am. Another from the Gorgansha, and one from the Machines. One hundred and forty thousand weapons total from the Gorgansha. Many more from the Machines, moving at eight and a half thousand gravities.”

  “That’s faster than what they usually pull, isn’t it?” asked another officer.

  “I believe from our readings that these birds are only about a third of the mass of ours. And they’re spitting out another volley right now.”

  “How many?” asked Beata, the feeling of something with tiny cold feet moving up her back. This was something new. In fact, the Machines were pulling off so many new things, she had to wonder where they were coming from. After all, the AIs were not that imaginative, so they had to be pulling the ideas from some other source. The humans they had captured?

  “In each volley?” asked Quan, wide eyes looking back at her admiral.

  “Yes.”

  “Three hundred thousand?”

  Beata shivered with shock. That was a massive volley, much larger than she would have expected.

  “How much force will they strike with?”

  “If they can accelerate up to the level as ours, point nine five light?” asked Quan.

  “Yes.”

  “Three hundred gigatons, approximately,” said Quan, closing her eyes and running the numbers in her head.

  “Enough to shatter one of our ships?”, said Beata, feeling sick. She was thinking that one of their one hundred-ton missiles generated over nine hundred gigatons. That was definitely enough to destroy the largest warship in the imperial inventory. Would a third that much be enough? If the one gigaton warhead could severely damage a capital ship, then surely three hundred times as much energy would finish one off.

  “If they hit, they will kill whatever they strike,” said Quan, shaking her head. She didn’t look happy with the results, but she wasn’t disputing them. “On the other hand, their warheads would have to be considerably less powerful than ours.”

  As if that makes any difference, thought the admiral, closing her eyes and letting out a breath. At one time a one gigaton warhead would have killed any capital ship it detonated on. That was when ships were smaller, had thinner armor and less capable inertial compensators. They were still called ship killers from tradition, and definitely could finish off anything smaller than a modern battle cruiser. Since a direct hit was more devastating than any possible warhead, they were still sudden death to any ship they hit. The problem was hitting a moving ship with defenses was not that easy, which was why volleys were so large. Out of a hundred missiles fired, half would be knocked out of space before they entered laser range, most of the rest taken out by the light amp weapons. The few left would attempt to maneuver in, something made more difficult by their velocity, only giving them microseconds for final course corrections.

  More missiles meant more would get through, meaning more potential hits. Thinking about it, Bednarczyk wondered why the Empire had never tried this solution.

  “Do you think we can stop them?”

  “It depends on how fast they get to before they strike. Unfortunately, we won’t have any idea how much velocity that is until they get to us.”

  Beata thought about that. If the weapons constantly accelerated the whole way, they could calculate their final velocity almost exactly. But if they cut off acceleration at some point and coasted, they just wouldn't know. And since these were an unknown weapon configuration, they wouldn't know their capabilities until they made a complete run.

  “Try to come up with the best fire plan you can, Captain,” said Beata, looking back at the plot as another huge group of missiles appeared.

  “Can we intercept them with warp fighters?” asked one of the other officers on the bridge.

  The young man was sweating, and Beata could smell the fear permeating the flag bridge. She couldn’t blame them, as long as they did their duty up until the end. Staying at their posts and working the ship was their only chance. While sticking to their post might lead to their end, panic would lead to sure death.

  “Warp fighters could take the smaller weapons out just as easily as larger missiles,” said Quan. “Probably with slightly more ease. They probably don’t have the defenses of the larger weapons, but how much weaker we just don’t know. But they’re three times more of them to intercept.”

  Beata shook her head yet again, then looked back at the plot. There was so much going on. Missile swarms moving from three forces toward two of them. Enough to scare the crap out of anyone, and nothing would happen for hours, while they waited to find out what the result was.

  Just another normal battle in space, she thought with a slight smile on her face. If I wasn’t willing to go through such a joyful experience again and again, I should have gone into medicine like my mom wanted me to.

  * * *

  The AI looked on with the calmness of the nonliving as the battle developed. It had known that the other force was coming, tracking it through hyperspace, where nothing could move without giving itself away. Still, that it was coming into normal space so far from their allies was unexpected, though not unwelcome. And then they had fired a massive volley, added to those waves that the humans had fired. Unfortunately for them, it would come hours after the human force’s weapons had arrived. If the Machine volley did its job that force would be all but destroyed, and they would be able to handle the other life form’s attack. If they survived the weapons coming from the humans, if their second surprise worked as calculated.

  The Machine was not able to create. It could take information, data, and run statistical studies to come up with solution
s. No, it couldn’t create, but it could disseminate the data it came across, determine its utility, and determine whether it might be useful or not. The problem was, no matter how many simulations it ran, it still had no idea how it would work in the live fire exercise that was battle, when the unexpected could continue to crop up.

  It had come across many of the technologies it was now using from an alien species they had found and destroyed. The living beings had barely made it out of their star system. However, they were a very paranoid species, with a massive fleet of primitive starships. The Machines had defeated them easily. Or at least easily in each combat. There had been hundreds of those combats across a dozen star systems. The Machines had captured many mostly intact ships and crew, and sucked the information from both living and computer brains. Most of the tech they found had not been of use to them at the time, but looking over it again, in one of the many data sweeps the AIs performed at intervals, they had come up with a possible plan for the tactical uses of their type of weapons, if not the weapons themselves.

  Those aliens fought with almost overwhelming swarms of missiles, in the five to ten-ton range with kiloton level warheads. Even as low tech as they were, they were still able to get hits in against higher tech defenses. The lasers and tracking devices of Machines had taken out thousands of incoming missiles, swarms from a hundred warships trying to overwhelm several AI controlled vessels. Thousands destroyed, hundreds penetrating the outer defenses, dozens striking. Just a footnote in another species taken off the board, until now, when it saw how its waves of missiles weren’t getting through to targets that were more advanced than they were. The Machines had first taken their much bigger missiles out of the equation, since their larger size, calculated to fight their way through defensive fire, didn’t do the job against the human counter fire. So they had duplicated the human missiles, at least their size and the mass of the swarm, until they had made the jump to even smaller weapons, and even larger swarms.